Chapter 59: A Motley Crew
Chapter 59: A Motley Crew
The thundering of hooves was like thunder. Though there were only five cavalrymen, they somehow created the terrifying illusion of facing thousands upon thousands of troops and horses.
Hans, wearing his winged helmet, silently raised his cavalry spear, forming the twin tails of a small arrowhead formation with the three Winged Hussars. They were drawing closer and closer to the enemy.
At this critical juncture, a thought suddenly surfaced in his mind.
’If my old instructor knew I was now the cavalry commander of Winged Hussars, the expression on that old diehard’s face would surely be priceless. No, what would be even more interesting is if Milord brought the instructor over too and have him personally train these Winged Hussars!’
Meanwhile, Castellan Leonard had only just reached the top of the hill. He hesitated for only a moment before hastily beginning to detach the cart from the packhorse’s harness.
’Poor old Leonard, you’ll definitely die here today. But I can’t just stand idly by and watch the Holy Son chosen by the Heavenly Father perish before my very eyes. That’s something only Judas could do! No, I have to be Milord’s Saint James (the first apostle to be martyred)!’
He muttered incessantly as he painstakingly retrieved a cavalry spear from the back of the wagon and shouldered it.
"Holy Son, Milord, wait a little bit, I’m coming!"
No one paid him any attention. On this chaotic battlefield, no one could hear his roar, which was laced with fear.
These iron-clad knights, wielding lances, were like sharp hot knives effortlessly slicing through the butter-like formation of the desert bandits cavalry.